Lightning Strikes
by Auror Borealis
Summary: A young girl flees her deepest fear, and finds herself face to face with the Potions Master in the dead of night. Time-travel.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JKR. No infringement intended.  
  
Rating: PG, don't know about later.  
  
Summary: A young girl flees her deepest fear, and finds herself face to face with the Potions Master in the dead of night. Time-travel.  
  
Pairing: Severus/Hermione  
  
  
  
Lightning Strikes  
  
  
  
by Auror Borealis  
  
  
  
Chapter 1  
  
  
  
Rain lashed against the windows, propelled sideways by the gale. Callie put a silencing charm on her bed; one that would keep the noise out, not in. She was terrified of storms. It was irrational, she knew, but that knowledge never stopped her stomach from twisting into knots when the wind began to rise, or the lightning arced across the sky.  
  
Not being able to hear it didn't help much. It still preyed on her mind. Any second, she thought, the wind and rain would come crashing in through the window of her dorm. An uprooted tree trunk would sail through the shards of glass that clung stubbornly to the window frame, landing on her bed and crushing her. It didn't matter how many times she told herself that it could not happen. The wards on the castle would prevent it, if nothing else. Knowing she couldn't really be hurt didn't keep her from huddling, shaking with fright, in her bed. There was only one place where she felt safe when the fierce late fall storms ravaged the area.  
  
The resolve that kept her obediently in her bed failed her, and Callie jumped up, grabbing  
  
her robe as she sprinted out the door. She stubbed a bare toe on a table in the common room, kicking it in her haste to be gone. After hopping gracelessly on one foot for a moment, trying to shake loose the pain, she resumed her flight. She hoped the caretaker didn't catch her out of bed; at least not until she made it safely to the dungeons. The noise, the vibration, the electricity in the air didn't penetrate to Hogwart's depths. Gloomy and unwelcoming as they were, the dungeons were Callie's refuge when nature raged outside.  
  
Her breathing eased as she descended the stairs, then passed the entrance to the Slytherin common room, needing to put more distance between herself and the parts of Hogwarts that were above ground, and opened onto the outdoors. She finally slumped against the wall within yards of the Potions classroom, arms wrapped around herself. It was cold down here, and the weak torchlight along the corridor flickered in a way that cast sinister shadows everywhere. But the air felt less heavy and she couldn't feel the charged ions dancing across her skin anymore, giving her that horrid feeling that any moment she would be struck by lightning. She settled in to wait until it felt safe to venture up the stairs again.  
  
Sometime later the door to the Potions classroom opened, startling Callie. Great, she thought. Busted.  
  
Professor Severus Snape, wrapped in a dark grey flannel robe, stepped into the corridor, his hooded black eyes going straight to the girl, who pressed herself against the wall as though she trying to become invisible.  
  
"Curfew was three hours ago."  
  
"Yes, sir," she said, ashamed at the tears that already clogged her voice. She hated this weakness.  
  
"Five points from Hufflepuff for being out of your house after hours."  
  
"Yes, sir," she repeated miserably.  
  
The Potions Master crossed the hallway and gathered the trembling third year into his arms, sighing with frustration as her arms circled around him with bruising force. The girl was terrified, and it was not in his power to soothe this fear of hers. It made him feel helpless.  
  
"Come along, Caledonia. Your mother is waiting for you," he said, leading her through the classroom to the passage to his living quarters.  
  
She clung to him as they walked, her face buried against his shoulder. He barely heard her whispered, "Thank you, Daddy." 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JKR. No infringement intended.  
  
Rating: PG, don't know about later.  
  
Summary: A young girl flees her deepest fear, and finds herself face to face with the Potions Master in the dead of night. Time-travel.  
  
Pairing: Severus/Hermione  
  
A/N: I'm going to stick with that summary for right now, because I don't want to give away where I'm (hopefully) going with this. This original character is obviously very important to the story, but this will ultimately be a Snape/Hermione romance. Trust me *veg*  
  
Lightning Strikes  
  
  
  
by Auror Borealis  
  
  
  
Chapter 2  
  
  
  
Professor Hermione Snape regarded her sleeping daughter with undisguised worry. She and her husband had both hoped that their only child's phobia of storms would decrease as she grew older, but the terror had never abated. Neither of them had any idea where this fear had come from. Hermione reached to tuck Bertie, Callie's stuffed dragon, more securely into her arms.  
  
"This has to stop," Severus said, joining Hermione beside the sofa where they'd settled Callie for what remained of the night. He had just come back in from his office, where he'd gone to lock up the mild sleeping draft he had insisted his daughter take. "She cannot run down here every time she hears thunder."  
  
"It's practically a hurricane tonight, Severus. And she tries so hard. It started more than an hour before you found her. I thought that tonight she just might stay put." She laid her head on his shoulder. "I can't stand to think of her running through the corridors, scared and alone. But no, it can't go on. I just don't know what we can do that we haven't already tried."  
  
  
  
Callie was a source of constant anxiety to her parents. They worried not that she failed to live up to some unrealistic idea of her potential, but that she thought that she did. As the child of a union that had stunned the wizarding world, she had been watched closely from birth by a great many people. She was used to people looking for her mother's brilliance, her father's great magical ability, in her, and finding her a baffling disappointment. Enormous sums had been wagered in her earliest days over whether she would eventually be sorted into Gryffindor or Slytherin. These wagers, made with such anticipation for the fireworks that undoubtedly lay ahead within the Snape family, were quietly declared draws before she had turned five. By the time she entered the Great Hall with the other first years, no one was surprised when the Sorting Hat called out "Hufflepuff!" before it had time to settle on her head.  
  
Her mother and father both assured her that she was exactly what they had hoped for in a daughter, and that it was absurd for her to think that anyone expected her to grow up to be the greatest witch of her generation, after the Potter girls, of course. Her mother had encouraged her to study Arithmancy, but hadn't pushed the issue. Her father was in a more delicate situation, as Potions was a required course, but he told her often that doing her best was all he could ever ask of her. And she did do her best; she was, after all, a Hufflepuff.  
  
Caledonia Snape did not lack bravery or intelligence. She was her Care of Magical Creatures instructor's star pupil. Hagrid beamingly told anyone who would listen that she could give Charlie Weasley himself a run for his money when it came to handling the most irritable dragons. And Professor Lupin, her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, taught very few classes with the third year Hufflepuffs in which he was not awarding the house points for Miss Snape's ingenious and original solutions for dealing with dark creatures and minor curses. She was a gifted and daring Quidditch player, holding the position of reserve Seeker for her house. She would have been starting Seeker had she been able to play the game in all weather.  
  
Callie did not lack intelligence or bravery. What she lacked, she felt, was drama.  
  
Her parents' lives, and those of nearly every adult of Callie's acquaintance, had been marked with a surfeit of the stuff in the years when her mother had been a student at Hogwarts. Her father's school career had reeked with it. Their strong personalities guaranteed that they would always be thrown into sharp relief against those around them, never in the background, or at least not for long. But more than that, the times in which they had lived were a backdrop against which legends were born. The time before Voldemort was defeated, once and for all, by Harry Potter were dark times indeed, and people emerged from it heroes, villains, or dead. They didn't just go to class, do their homework, and sit down to dinner at their house table in the Great Hall only to find that it was meatloaf yet again. Or so, from the stories she'd heard all her life, Callie believed.  
  
The Snapes had long since recovered from any disappointment they might have felt that Callie was not a brilliant Potions student, or ahead of everyone in her year in Charms and Transfiguration. They valued the excellence she showed in other areas. On the one occasion when Callie had played Seeker for Hufflepuff against Gryffindor (the starting Seeker had been too ill to play), it had been Hufflepuff's colors the Arithmancy professor and alumna of Gryffindor had worn. When the announcer's voice reverberated through the stadium, "Caledonia Snape has caught the Snitch!" Hermione had cheered Gryffindor's defeat so enthusiastically she hadn't been able to talk for a whole day. The taciturn Potions professor had smiled and hugged a startled Professor Sprout.  
  
Loving, supportive parents were not dramatic.  
  
Hurrying, frightened, through the darkened corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on storm-battered nights was a bit dramatic, but mostly it was just very embarrassing.  
  
Callie's parents cast such long shadows, she didn't know how she could ever step out into the sunlight on her own.  
  
  
  
Hermione rose early to rouse her daughter, and sent her back to Hufflepuff just before it was time to get up for breakfast. An idea, something they had not tried before, for helping her child had occurred to her as she lay awake. She needed to discuss it with Severus, and she hoped that between them, they could make it work. 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JKR. No infringement intended.  
  
Rating: PG, don't know about later.  
  
Summary: A young girl flees her deepest fear, and finds herself face to face with the Potions Master in the dead of night. Time-travel.  
  
Pairing: Severus/Hermione  
  
  
  
Lightning Strikes  
  
  
  
by Auror Borealis  
  
  
  
Chapter 3  
  
  
  
"Where were you?" Catherine Finch-Fletchley whispered loudly.  
  
"Did you sneak out to meet a boy?" Eugenia Graham asked excitedly.  
  
"Well, sort of," said Callie. "If you count my father."  
  
Catherine stopped just before the door to the Potions classroom, and grabbed Callie's arm, pulling her to the side. "What happened?"  
  
"There was a storm, I think," said Eugenia. "Did you come down here again?"  
  
"There was a storm? I never heard it."  
  
In the morning, with the storm blown out and a clear sky over the Great Hall at breakfast, it was easy for Callie to roll her eyes at Catherine. The girl could sleep through anything.  
  
"I got scared. My dad found me out here, and I spent the rest of the night on their couch."  
  
Catherine and Eugenia gave her amused smiles. Her phobia was, in the absence of severe weather, a great joke between the three of them. It was easy to laugh about it, when it wasn't scaring her to death.  
  
"Did you get in trouble?" asked Eugenia.  
  
"He took five points from Hufflepuff," Callie answered ruefully. "Sorry about that."  
  
Catherine snorted. "Like those points ever do us any good anyway. Hufflepuff never wins anything. And besides, you couldn't help it. Did Professor Sprout say anything?"  
  
"Nope, not really. She patted me on the head," her companions giggled at this, "and said she wished she could do something to help. She's always really nice about it."  
  
"Miss Snape, Miss Graham, Miss Finch-Fletchley." A silky voice interrupted their tete-a-tete. "If you would do us the honor of joining our humble class…" he bowed mockingly and stood by to let them pass.  
  
"Yes, sir," came a trio of meek replies. They hurried past the professor to find their seats.  
  
Potions was Callie's least favorite class, except for Divination, which was absolutely unbearable. If she had inherited nothing else from her mother, she had a full measure of her impatience with that questionable branch of magic. Her teacher wasn't as fond of dire predictions as Sybill Trelawney had been, but was still easily satisfied if you turned in scrolls of lurid prophecies drawn from your imagination rather than anything the stars had to say about it. It was irritating and a dead bore.  
  
She didn't mind all the chopping and mixing and memorization that came along with a Potions lesson. What bothered her was that half of the class was in Ravenclaw. Most of Hogwarts' brightest students sorted into that house, and Callie felt that her average performance looked that much worse, contrasted with these insufferable know-it-alls. Not to mention that as the Potions Master's daughter, people expected her to excel as a matter of course. Too bad the Potions gene skips a generation, she thought.  
  
The lesson was its usual exercise in stirring up feelings of inadequacy, and she wasn't too surprised when her father asked her to remain after class. He wouldn't rebuke her for not knowing the properties of mallow root; he'd simply tell her what a bright child she was, and how he sometimes thought she could apply herself a bit more.  
  
Only that wasn't what he wanted to talk about, to her relieved surprise.  
  
"Your mother has had an idea that we hope might help you with your fear of storms," he said. She sighed inwardly; she sometimes felt like a guinea pig in a Muggle laboratory, the subject of endless experiments. What would it be this time?  
  
"I'm not sure if it will work," he continued. "The theory is sound, but nothing like it has been attempted in any practical way that I know of. And it will require great fortitude on your part, Caledonia."  
  
"Just as long as I don't have to stand on the Quidditch field in a thunderstorm."  
  
"Not the Quidditch field, sweetheart. The Astronomy Tower."  
  
Callie snorted in disbelief. Surely her father was joking. The Astronomy Tower, in a storm? That was never going to happen, not if she had anything to say about it.  
  
"If you truly can't face it, we won't push you."  
  
A shudder ran through her. Did he have a clue what he was asking? Yes, he did, she knew. And he wouldn't suggest it if he didn't think it had a good chance of working.  
  
Callie sighed. "What will I have to do?"  
  
  
  
Two weeks later, the weather took another turn for the worse. It was still clear outside at breakfast time, but the wind was rising, and the Wizarding Weather Service predicted severe thunderstorms in the evening They'd do it tonight, for sure. Callie pushed her kippers around, watching distractedly as the hall filled with owls carrying the morning's mail.  
  
Eugenia and Catherine each had a small assortment of letters. Callie didn't often receive mail. Her parents were both here with her at school, and she had no other wizarding relatives. But sometimes an owl came to rest in front of her plate, and one did so this morning. She untied the letter, which was in a rectangular Muggle envelope and had stamps on the front. She offered the owl a kipper, which it accepted daintily in its beak before flying off again. Callie ripped open the envelope while her friends looked on curiously.  
  
A brightly printed card saying "good luck" was inside, and in it was tucked a five pound note. Her grandparents always sent money in the post, even when it wasn't her birthday or Christmas. But she liked the funny looking paper currency, with its picture of the Muggle queen looking as she had about forty years ago. Her grandfather had signed it, as usual, along the border, in his distinctive, bold scrawl. 'Love to Callie from Granddad.'  
  
"Mum told my grandparents about their idea, I guess," she told her friends. The money was passed to those seated nearest Callie at the Hufflepuff table, so they could get a look at it. Most of them had never seen Muggle money before. When everyone had had a chance to exclaim over it, she tucked it into the pocket where she kept her wand, picked up her books, and rose to go to class.  
  
  
  
The wind had been rising steadily since dinner, and shortly before curfew, the first dull rumbles of thunder sounded in the distance. Callie huddled in an armchair before the fire in the Hufflepuff common room, waiting to be summoned to the Astronomy Tower. She didn't wait long; the Fat Friar floated in through the doorway, beaming at the students as he wafted to where Callie sat.  
  
"You've a visitor, m'dear," the ghost said cheerfully. No one had ever seen him anything but cheerful, and many wondered what could have made him remain earthbound as a ghost. Callie wondered too, but she was too polite to ask. Whatever it was, it had to be painful to talk about, she thought.  
  
"Thank you, Friar," she said, smiling back at the Hufflepuff ghost as she stood and walked to the common room entrance, and then, taking a deep breath, pushed it open.  
  
"Good evening, Professor Snape," a sixth year said, the professor nodding in answer. Callie stood aside to let the boy in, before greeting her mother.  
  
"So," Hermione began as they walked, "are you nervous?"  
  
A flash of light lit the window at the end of the corridor, and was followed closely by a rolling, echoing crash. Callie flinched.  
  
"Nervous? Me? Of course not." She smiled weakly, the pallor of her face evident even in the torchlit gloom of the corridor.  
  
Hermione put her arm around her daughter's shoulders. "Don't worry, darling. We won't let anything happen to you."  
  
"I know, Mum. Let's just get it over with, okay?"  
  
  
  
Severus Snape waited for them in the Astronomy Tower, which had been cleared of equipment for the occasion. Handing Callie a flask of something silvery and telling her to drink it all, the Potions professor took out his wand and opened the huge observatory skylight in the ceiling. Rain poured in, but a flick of his wife's wand caused it to disappear before it touched them. Lightning was now flashing every few seconds, and the thunder was a continuous rising and falling roar. The worst of the storm was directly overhead.  
  
The potion was syrupy and sweet, and it was difficult to finish it. Callie was certain she was going to throw up, and she breathed deeply to try to steady her roiling stomach. She was placed in the center of the room, and Hermione began to circle her clockwise, reciting an unfamiliar incantation in Latin. Callie closed her eyes. Her parents had explained how this was supposed to work. No participation was required from her, other than her presence exactly where she was. It sounded dodgy to her, something about using the storm's own energy to break its elemental power over her, but then, they were the geniuses, not her. She tried to think about Quidditch as the heavens raged over her head, trying to push away the fear so she wouldn't bolt and ruin everything. She prayed to the gods that this ordeal would end soon. Her mother's low chant continued, growing in strength and volume. The air crackled around Callie, a sensation she had always hated. She shook with terror. Whatever was supposed to happen, it obviously hadn't happened yet.  
  
Through her closed eyes, Callie could see the flash of brightness that enveloped her, as if lightning had struck into this very room. The scent of burning ozone enveloped her, and suddenly, it felt as though she were traveling through the Floo network, far too fast, out of control. She heard a scream, growing distant, then what sounded like laughter, becoming stronger. She squeezed her eyes tighter, dizziness overtaking her as the ozone smell faded. Eyes still closed, the brilliant light finally fading, Callie collapsed into a heap on the Astronomy Tower floor. 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JKR. No infringement intended.  
  
Rating: PG-13 for mild language.  
  
Summary: A young girl flees her deepest fear, and finds herself face to face with the Potions Master in the dead of night. Time-travel.  
  
Pairing: Severus/Hermione  
  
  
  
Lightning Strikes  
  
  
  
by Auror Borealis  
  
  
  
1 Chapter 4  
  
  
  
"What was that?" Ron Weasley lifted his head from his girlfriend's neck, startled.  
  
"It's just thunder. Don't be so jumpy."  
  
"I thought I heard something. I don't want us to get caught up here." He looked around, but couldn't make out anything in the gloom that prevailed between flashes of lightning.  
  
"Worried about breaking rules? I thought I'd never see this day," Hermione Granger said teasingly, her hands unfastening the front of Ron's robe. They snuggled together against the stone wall of the tower, reclining on large, soft pillows Hermione had transfigured from some socks she'd brought. She brought her teeth down on the boy's ear, and he instantly forgot anything but the brown-haired girl in his arms. They kissed as the storm wore itself out over their heads, but at last, Hermione drew away and rested her head on his shoulder.  
  
Ron sighed; there never seemed to be enough time for them to be alone together. Claiming one last kiss, he stood and helped Hermione to her feet. She transfigured the pillows back into socks, and stuffed them into her pocket. Fingers entwined, the two Gryffindor 7th years crossed the tower toward the door, preparing to don the Invisibility Cloak they had borrowed from their friend, Harry Potter. Prefects or not, it still wouldn't do to be caught wandering the halls of Hogwarts in the middle of the night.  
  
Ron cursed and stumbled as his foot struck something soft. It groaned.  
  
"What the…" he looked at Hermione, and exchanging alarmed looks, they drew their wands. "Lumos," said Ron, holding his now-glowing wand aloft for them to see by, as Hermione pointed her own at the limp, stirring bundle on the floor.  
  
It was a girl.  
  
She was young, perhaps twelve or thirteen, with straight, glossy black hair. There was a Hufflepuff badge on her robe.  
  
"Are you all right?" Hermione helped the girl to sit up.  
  
"I think so," she said. "There was a flash, and this awful smell, and I fainted." She started to cry.  
  
Ron and Hermione were stunned. How had the girl gotten in there in the first place? They'd charmed the door so it wouldn't open even with 'alohomora;' they hadn't wanted anyone surprising them. And now here was a young Hufflepuff neither of them recognized, throwing her arms around Hermione and sobbing. So much for not being surprised, Ron thought.  
  
Looking helplessly at the redheaded boy, Hermione stroked the black hair and murmured soothing nothings. The girl raised her tearstained face, her head still pressed against Hermione, and looked at Ron.  
  
"Mum, who's that?"  
  
  
  
Hermione nearly dropped the girl.  
  
"Did you just call me 'Mum'?" she demanded.  
  
Callie called her parents the same thing the other students did, in class and during school functions. She hadn't thought this counted as one, but for some reason, her mother seemed to think that calling her 'Mum' was not appropriate right now.  
  
"Sorry." She hiccuped, and reached into a pocket for a handkerchief. "I should have said Professor Snape."  
  
Hermione did drop the girl.  
  
  
  
"Who are you?" Ron asked, helping Callie to stand.  
  
"I'm Callie Snape." She looked at the older boy; he was wearing Gryffindor robes. She didn't know many Gryffindors particularly well, especially not the upperclassmen, but she was sure she would have recognized this tall boy, with his shock of red hair, at least by sight.  
  
Hermione had risen and turned away from the girl. What kind of joke was she playing? She wondered who had put the kid up to it. Just as she turned back to insist that 'Callie,' or whatever her name really was, explain herself, a familiar-looking piece of paper on the floor caught her attention. She bent down to pick it up.  
  
It was a five pound note, Muggle money. The girl must have dropped it; Hermione didn't carry any with her, and she was sure Ron wouldn't have Muggle currency. Something was written on it. She held it up to Ron's wand.  
  
"Love to Callie from Granddad."  
  
It was in her father's handwriting.  
  
Hermione crumpled to the floor, in the exact spot vacated by her daughter a few moments before.  
  
  
  
Callie sat on the edge of the bed next to her mother's. Hermione was also sitting up, looking at Callie in a mixture of wonder and horror. It had been very dim in the Astronomy Tower, even with Mr. Weasley's – Ron's – wand providing light. She could see his older self in this boy, now that she knew to look for it. She hadn't noticed the youthfulness of her mother's face, not then. Now, it was unmistakable, and Callie was very frightened. How had this happened? Mum had said they wouldn't let anything happen…  
  
Madam Pomfrey opened the door of the hospital wing to admit Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall. Both were startled at the sight of the pale, black-haired, dark-eyed girl in Hufflepuff robes. They knew every student at Hogwarts, and they knew they'd never seen this girl before.  
  
"How are you feeling, Miss Granger?" McGonagall was concerned, but her voice was stern. Ron and Hermione had been in the Astronomy Tower after curfew, after all.  
  
"I'm fine. But…" Hermione waved helplessly towards Callie.  
  
"Who are you, child?" Dumbledore's voice was gentle.  
  
"Professor… Dumbledore…" Her voice shook. Callie was glad to see a truly familiar face; Dumbledore was almost unchanged from when she knew him. She knew that she had somehow traveled back in time; her mother had told her enough about her experiences with the Time-Turner to know that it was possible. The question was, how? And even more important, how was she going to get home?  
  
"Headmaster, Professor McGonagall," said Hermione, her voice very faint, "may I present my daughter, Callie?"  
  
Ron snorted disbelievingly.  
  
"Good heavens," said McGonagall, looking closely at the girl. "Are you certain, Miss Granger?"  
  
Hermione held out the five pound note, pointing to the inscription. "That's my father's handwriting, Professor. And she knew me; she called me 'Mum.'"  
  
"What year is it in your time, Miss…?"  
  
"2015, Headmaster. And my last name is Snape. Caledonia Snape."  
  
"Good heavens," Professor McGonagall repeated.  
  
Ron's expression was thunderous. "I don't know who you really are, but I suggest you tell us the truth, and do it now." He leaned in towards Callie, his face inches from hers. Callie didn't think she'd ever seen anyone so angry in her life, not even her father, whose temper, when roused, was legendary.  
  
Callie turned to Hermione. The Gryffindor girl found that, stunned as she was by the appearance of this child who would be hers at some time in the future, and the even more startling revelation of the identity of the child's father, she could not ignore the plea in those black eyes. She hopped off of her bed and sat beside Callie, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders.  
  
"Really, Ron, can't you see she's been through enough without you trying to make it worse?"  
  
"There's no way she's telling the truth," insisted Ron. "You'd never have a child with… with that greasy bastard!"  
  
"You forget yourself, Mr. Weasley," rapped out McGonagall, her tone icy. "Twenty five additional points from Gryffindor, in addition to whatever I decide will be appropriate for your outing in the Astronomy Tower. Now go back to Gryffindor, and if you tell anyone about this, you'll be in detention until you graduate. If you graduate."  
  
With a hostile glance at the girl beside Hermione, he left the hospital wing.  
  
"He can't talk about my father like that," Callie finally managed to say. Tears were threatening to choke her again, this time in anger.  
  
Tentatively, Hermione reached up to stroke the pale cheek. "Don't worry, Callie. He says lots of things he doesn't mean. He's just surprised right now. He'll get over it."  
  
"Dumbledore summoned a chair, and sat down beside the bed. "Not to worry, my dear, Miss Granger is quite right. Now, why don't you tell me how you came to be here with us?"  
  
  
  
Callie's tale didn't give them much to go on, where reversing her journey through time was concerned. Hermione had no recognition of the elements in the spell she would attempt to cast seventeen years into the future. None of them knew of a potion such as the girl described.  
  
A short time later, Hermione was sent back to her dormitory, and Callie was settled into a bed in the hospital wing for the night, a screen drawn around her for privacy. She could hear the professors talking in low voices as she drifted off to sleep.  
  
Sometime later, the curtains rustled. A sliver of light outlined the figure who had opened them, and sleepy eyes blinked up at him.  
  
"Daddy?" she whispered.  
  
Severus was too stunned to speak for several moments. So it was true. He looked in amazement at the child he never thought he would sire. When he spoke, his voice was thick with unaccustomed emotion.  
  
"I'm here, Caledonia. Go back to sleep." 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JKR. No infringement intended.  
  
Rating: PG-13 for mild language.  
  
Summary: A young girl flees her deepest fear, and finds herself face to face with the Potions Master in the dead of night. Time-travel.  
  
Pairing: Severus/Hermione  
  
  
  
Lightning Strikes  
  
  
  
by Auror Borealis  
  
  
  
Chapter 5  
  
  
  
The next morning, Professor Dumbledore escorted Callie from her temporary accommodation in the hospital wing up to his office. Professor Snape arrived soon after, and Callie told them once more of the events immediately preceding her journey to the Hogwarts of 1998. The recitation was no more helpful than it had been the night before; Snape had no idea what the potion could be, and even less of what Granger – Professor Snape? He couldn't take that in – had been trying to do.  
  
"Perhaps the Pensieve, Headmaster?"  
  
"Just what I was thinking, if Miss Snape does not object."  
  
Snape raised his eyebrow. Dumbledore was enjoying his discomfort.  
  
"Have you ever used a Pensieve, Caledonia?" Snape asked the girl.  
  
"No, Da – Professor. I've heard of them, of course, but I've never used one."  
  
"Would you agree to allow Professor Dumbledore to extract your memories of last night, so that we might view them? We might be able to recognize a detail that will help us to send you home."  
  
"Sure. It doesn't hurt, does it?"  
  
"No, my dear, it is painless." Dumbledore touched his wand to Callie's forehead. "Think about last night, everything that happened when you entered the Astronomy Tower, until you found yourself here. Yes, that should do it." Silver thread-like filaments seemed to burst from her head and disappear into the wand. He touched it to the surface of the Pensieve, which Snape had brought to the desk.  
  
Callie was fascinated at the sight of her memories. The three of them stood off to the side, watching Hermione chant. Callie saw herself in the middle of the circle, shaking like a leaf. She knew this was only a memory, but the thunder booming overhead sounded so real…  
  
A hand descended onto her shoulder. Her father, or her future father – time travel wreaked havoc on one's vocabulary – was gripping her comfortingly. Dumbledore beamed. And then they were back in his office.  
  
Snape shook his head. "I simply don't know, Professor," he told Dumbledore. The admission was obviously not an easy one; he was scowling dreadfully. "You said that Miss Granger – your mother – proposed the idea?"  
  
Callie nodded.  
  
"And whatever it was, she could not possibly reproduce it, or reverse it, at this time in her life. I'm sorry, Caledonia."  
  
"It's okay, Professor." Her father looked like he could use a hug, she thought. But he also looked as though he would have a stroke if she tried to give him one right now. He had changed very little physically, but much had changed otherwise.  
  
  
  
More permanent, or at least more comfortable, arrangements were made for Callie, for whatever time she should be with them. It was decided that, since the physical resemblance was very pronounced, she should be introduced as a 'young relative' of Snape's, which was certainly true enough. An unused bedroom in his quarters was furnished for her use, and after the session with the Pensieve, he escorted her to the dungeons. Unlike her father's physical appearance, his living quarters had changed a great deal in seventeen years. In her own time, the decor was still muted, no bright colors to be seen anywhere, but this was far more spartan than the rooms that she had grown up in. The spare bedroom turned out to be her own, although the conjured furnishings bore no resemblance to those her mother had chosen for her. Since Callie had become a Hogwarts student, the bedroom had become an office for her mother, except during the summer. She lived in Hufflepuff now, after all. But the sight of this room still made tears well up in her eyes. She wanted to go home.  
  
Lunchtime came, and with it a dilemma. Callie had no desire to sit with the Slytherins for meals, but as a 'guest' of the Head of Slytherin House, she did not see how this could be avoided. Her father, who did not wish to put her in with the Slytherins for reasons that he did not share with her, provided a solution during Potions with the 7th year Gryffindors and Slytherins.  
  
"Miss Granger. I tire of having to tell you not to assist Mr. Longbottom. If he has not acquired a basic grasp of the art and science of potions by now, the blame is to be laid at your door. You have obstructed his education long enough. Remain after class to arrange the details of your detention."  
  
Hermione was floored. It had been difficult to sit in the Potions classroom this morning, knowing that the man making her and her friends' lives unpleasant for these few hours twice a week, and as often as possible outside the class, it seemed, was the father of the child she would someday have. Hermione could not imagine such a thing happening, ever. Ron was not speaking to her, and over something she had not done yet. And now Snape was punishing her for helping Neville, when she had not so much as spoken to Neville since class had begun? The injustice of it was almost beyond bearing.  
  
Harry waited for her in the corridor. Ron was gone; he had pushed past Harry without so much as a word, as soon as the lesson ended. Hermione finally came out, accompanied by a younger girl wearing plain black robes. Hermione was smiling.  
  
"Harry, I'd like you to meet Caledonia Snape. She's my detention."  
  
Harry gave Hermione a puzzled look, but smiled at the girl. "You don't look like a Snape, Caledonia."  
  
"Call me Callie; only my – only Professor Snape calls me Caledonia," she said. "And since I am a Snape, this is what one looks like." She gestured to herself. "I don't see how I could look like anything else."  
  
"Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude," said Harry. "But your…" He waved toward the Potions classroom.  
  
"It's a complicated relationship. I just call him my cousin," she answered. Once again, this was close to the truth; their relationship was complicated, if by nothing else than the fact that she was here right now, more than four years before her birth. And she was calling him cousin, at Dumbledore's suggestion.  
  
"It's no secret he and I are not each other's biggest fans."  
  
Callie gave him a sad smile. That was one thing that would not change in the future. The charged animosity between them had faded, but the two men would never be comfortable in each other's company.  
  
"And you definitely don't look like my idea of a detention," Harry continued.  
  
Callie could feel a blush rising. Was this young Harry as accomplished a flirt as his son, she wondered? The Potter twins, 4th year Gryffindors in Callie's time, were a charismatic pair, the boy with auburn hair and green eyes, the girl with unruly black hair and those same eyes. Neither had any need to wear glasses, of course; their eyesight had been magically enhanced when they were small children. Their younger sister, a first year, was a beautiful, porcelain-skinned, auburn-headed angel who looked as though she would outshine her sister when she grew older. They seemed to have no trouble shouldering the expectations that went along with their daunting legacy, Callie often thought enviously.  
  
"Can I escort you lovely ladies to lunch?" He performed a graceful yet exquisitely funny bow, and offered each girl an arm. Yep, this is where Andrew gets it, Callie sighed.  
  
  
  
Callie sat between Harry and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, after heading by force of habit for the long table occupied by the members of Hufflepuff House. Hermione had grabbed her arm and hauled her away just in time. It felt strange to be amongst the Gryffindors. As a first year, she had hoped that this would be her house, but when the sorting had put her into Hufflepuff, she discovered that she was relieved, rather than disappointed. Hufflepuff wouldn't cause friction between her parents; it had no long-standing rivalry with Slytherin. And thank the gods it wasn't Slytherin. That was really all that mattered. Callie's back had been to the teacher's table when she was sorted, and she couldn't see that her father's face also showed relief. Having spent his Hogwarts career in the most infamous house, he didn't wish the same on his daughter. Hufflepuff would make her happy, he was sure.  
  
Ron Weasley sat across from them, and he scowled at Callie. The tension at the table was immediately apparent. Harry was bewildered by the hostility between his two best friends. Ron had stormed into their room early this morning, not bothering to be quiet. His rage was obvious, but he had refused to say a word on its cause. Well, one mystery solved, he thought; it's to do with Hermione. No surprise there; they often argued. But this was more intense than anything he'd ever seen between them. Next to him, Snape's little cousin seemed to shrink in her seat. She could barely eat. Watching the girl out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione's hand take Callie's under the table, and give it a reassuring squeeze. Had Ron met this girl? And why was he behaving as though he hated her? Granted, it was hard to think of liking anyone related to Snape, but Callie seemed nice enough. Something was going on, and he was going to find out what it was.  
  
  
  
Hermione invited Callie to tag along after lunch to Care of Magical Creatures. She knew Hagrid wouldn't mind, and she was right. The lesson involved trimming unicorn hooves, a delicate process not only because the unicorns weren't inclined to allow many people to touch them, but because the hoof trimmings had powerful magical properties, and had to be trimmed in a way that didn't damage these properties.  
  
Hagrid asked for a volunteer to help him demonstrate, and Callie's hand went into the air. The girl's enthusiasm delighted Hagrid. No one else volunteered. No one else wanted to risk being kicked, or worse, snubbed by the unicorn.  
  
Hagrid had Callie hold the unicorn's foot while he trimmed the hoof, and she picked it up properly, with due respect toward the animal, and without hesitation. Hagrid was impressed. Girls always loved the unicorns, but often shied away from tasks such as this one. He asked her if he wanted to trim the next hoof, and she did so, quickly and efficiently. She also trimmed the remaining two, placing the trimmings in a box with the others. The unicorn snorted its thanks, allowed himself to be petted for a few minutes, and trotted away.  
  
"Yeh've got a way with animals, Callie," Hagrid said. She beamed; it was high praise, coming from Hagrid.  
  
Hermione left to escort Callie back to Snape's quarters, and Harry grabbed Ron's arm and asked him to take a walk with him. Ron shrugged Harry's arm away and told him to sod off. Harry was stunned. This had gone far enough.  
  
Out of sight of Hagrid's, Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at Ron. "We're going for a walk, in that direction, now," he pointed away from the school, "or I'm going for a walk in the Forbidden Forest, towing your petrified self along with me. Which is it?"  
  
Ron gave Harry a venomous look, but struck off away from the school, towards the lake. Harry followed. He gave Ron a few minutes to calm down before speaking.  
  
"Why do you hate that girl?"  
  
Ron sat down on the shore of the lake. He pulled a Chocolate Frog out of his bag, ripped it open, tucked the card back into his bag, and threw the Chocolate Frog into the lake. A giant, glistening tentacle broke the surface of the water and caught it.  
  
"I don't hate her. Well, not her, exactly. But she shouldn't even exist."  
  
What the hell? Harry thought.  
  
"How can you say that about someone you don't even know? What's she done to you? And what's Hermione got to do with it?"  
  
Ron laughed nastily. "What doesn't Hermione have to do with it? I thought she loved me, Harry." He stared out over the water, the look on his face the bleakest Harry had ever seen.  
  
"Don't change the subject, Ron."  
  
"I didn't. It's exactly the point."  
  
"Ron, help me out here. Last night, you dragged Hermione off to who knows where for a snog."  
  
"The Astronomy Tower."  
  
"Whatever. Then you come stomping in like a mountain troll with my wand up its nose, won't even speak to me, and this morning you're furious with Hermione, and you wish some girl you've never met didn't exist. I'm a bit confused here."  
  
"You're a bit nosy, is what you are."  
  
Harry looked hurt.  
  
"Well, really, Harry, it's true. You do always have to know what's going on, even if it doesn't concern you."  
  
"Well, fine, if you don't want to tell me, don't. But quit with the martyred act, whatever it's for. You're unbearable when you get like this, you know. You'd think you're three years old sometimes."  
  
To Harry's surprise, Ron grinned. "I'm glad we had this little chat, really. I wanted to say that to you for a long time."  
  
Harry sat down next to him. "Same here."  
  
They sat for awhile, saying nothing, until Ron sighed.  
  
"I'm not supposed to say; McGonagall promised me detention until I graduate. But you'll find out anyway; you always do. She's Hermione's daughter."  
  
"You've bloody gone mad, you have."  
  
"I just might, at that. She traveled here from somewhere in the future. We found her in the Astronomy Tower last night. She's Hermione's daughter."  
  
"Wow." Harry let this information sift through his brain for a moment. "But why can't you stand her? I would think you'd be inclined to like any child of Hermione's."  
  
"Two reasons. First, she's not Snape's cousin. She's his daughter. His and Hermione's." He nodded knowingly at the look of shock crossing Harry's face. "Yep. Exactly. And the second, and more important reason that I don't like her – or the idea of her – is that she isn't mine."  
  
"Oh." The implications of this sank in.  
  
"I don't know what to do. I don't want to lose Hermione, but obviously, I'm going to. And to him, of all people. I want to kill him, Harry."  
  
The tears started then.  
  
"Callie should be mine, not Snape's."  
  
Harry knew there was nothing he could say to comfort his friend. They sat there until the sun sank below the horizon. 


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JKR. No infringement intended.  
  
Rating: R for language and sexual situations.  
  
Summary: A young girl flees her deepest fear, and finds herself face to face with the Potions Master in the dead of night. Time-travel.  
  
Pairing: Severus/Hermione  
  
A/N: The tone changes a bit in this chapter.  
  
  
  
Lightning Strikes  
  
  
  
by Auror Borealis  
  
  
  
Chapter 6  
  
  
  
Snape was at his desk in the classroom when Hermione and Callie entered. He did not look up right away.  
  
Hermione watched as Callie perched, uninvited, on a corner of the desk and proceeded to tell Snape all about the Care of Magical Creatures class. His lack of response did not seem to deter her in the least. Every so often, she would interrupt her narrative to ask Hermione for confirmation on some point or other. As the girl chattered on, Snape's head slowly came up, and his eyes locked with Hermione's. They stared at each other, each reflecting that they would willingly have given any sum to know what the other was thinking.  
  
"I'm glad you found something pleasant to do." Snape finally spoke to Callie. "It is almost time for dinner. Go and change your robes."  
  
Callie looked down at herself; white unicorn hairs covered the front of her robes. She looked at the younger versions of her parents and grinned. She was about to leave them alone together, she thought. Cool.  
  
When the door closed behind her, Snape rose and circled the desk, leaning back against it, only a few feet from where Hermione had seated herself in the front row of desks.  
  
"Are you enjoying your detention, Miss Granger?"  
  
"Yes, I am. Thank you for it, by the way."  
  
Snape said nothing.  
  
"It just doesn't seem possible, does it?" Hermione finally said. She could not believe that she was initiating this conversation with her Potions professor, but she badly needed to talk to someone about the implications of Callie's existence. Harry had chased after Ron. There was only one other possible candidate, and he was glowering at her.  
  
"Which aspect of this does not seem possible? I agree that it is all highly unlikely. Bizarre, even."  
  
"That you and I… that we made… her."  
  
"Indeed. I have not yet recovered from the shock."  
  
He didn't look shocked, but then, Hermione wasn't sure she'd know that look if she saw it. There was another implication she wanted to discuss, this one a bit more personal. She took the bull by the horns.  
  
"And also, that at some point in the future, you and I are going to have sex."  
  
Snape looked impressed.  
  
"I congratulate you on your directness, Miss Granger. I'll admit, the mind does boggle. Weasley, I noticed, does not seem to have any trouble picturing it clearly."  
  
"Yes. Hmm." Ron would hate her for discussing him with Snape. Well, then, she just wouldn't tell him. "Let's be honest, Professor. I've never had any reason to suspect you of liking me any more than I do you."  
  
"Nor should you, because I don't. Since we're being blunt here," he paused and looked inquiringly at her; she nodded. "I find you and your friends annoying and insufferable. My primary reason for being unable to imagine you and I engaging in the activities necessary for procreation is that I prefer to shag women of my own intelligence level. And as well as you may perform in your classes, an intelligent woman would not spend her evenings exchanging saliva with a whinging, jealous prat such as Ronald Weasley."  
  
Wow, thought Hermione, the gloves were definitely off. Snape was being abominable, but something about the exchange was undeniably exciting. He was talking to her as though she was an adult.  
  
"And what business is it of yours who I snog?"  
  
"None whatsoever. Not now, that is. But you will remember that you began this discussion, not I. And we are having this chat only because at this moment, living, breathing proof of our future liaison is in my rooms, changing into clean robes." He straightened and walked slowly toward her. "Since she does exist, and as we have both accepted her relationship to each of us, it naturally follows that we will, at some point, put aside our mutual antipathy long enough to fuck each other. At least once. Have I shocked you, Miss Granger? I'm not done yet. I believe that her arrival into our world will take place some four years from now, is that correct?"  
  
Hermione nodded, dazed from Snape's uncharacteristic crudeness.  
  
"Sometime within the next roughly three and a half years, Miss Granger, you will need to accustom yourself to the idea of having me in your bed. As I must do with you; although now that the idea has occurred, I must admit it is not as revolting as it initially seemed." He stood in front of her, and his scent, sandalwood and musk and the faint odors of various potions ingredients, enveloped her. It was making it difficult to breathe. He placed his hand on the desk and leaned over her, their faces inches apart.  
  
Hermione's breath was growing ragged. Control yourself, she told herself sharply. He's trying to intimidate you, put you off balance. But the sensation skimming across her nerve endings wasn't intimidation.  
  
"Break it off with Weasley, Hermione. I suggest that you not delay too long. Doing so will only make it more painful, you know."  
  
Hermione was incensed. How dare he? "Callie's existence doesn't mean you own me, Professor Snape. Or that you ever will."  
  
"No, Hermione. I have no desire to own you. But when you are carrying my child, you and I will marry."  
  
Hermione started.  
  
"Yes, Hermione. You will marry me. I will not allow you to bear my bastard, and I cannot imagine you wanting to do so. And when we marry, make no mistake." His lips were almost brushing her own. "You will be my wife in every respect. And there will be no room for Ron Weasley in our bed." His tone was menacing and entrancing at the same time. Hermione felt something primal steal from her unconscious, where it had lain dormant all her life, into her waking mind. Snape's tone evoked something primitive and pleasurable. Ron did not have the power to make her feel like this, and Snape had accomplished it with one conversation, not a pleasant one at that. She closed her eyes.  
  
Snape's lips descended on her own, feather light. It was not blatantly sexual, but it wasn't chaste by any means. She knew it for what it was; he had just claimed her. It felt terrifying and glorious.  
  
A throat was cleared loudly. Callie stood in the doorway, smiling. Snape slowly straightened up, not bothering to try to conceal what they'd just been doing. It couldn't come as a surprise to Caledonia, after all. Hermione sprang to her feet, her face crimson. She grabbed Callie's hand and pulled her out of the Potions classroom, not looking back.  
  
The next day, after dinner, Hermione had asked to be excused from her detention for the evening. To her surprise, Snape had agreed, telling Callie to accompany him back to the dungeons. Hermione struck out for the Quidditch field. She needed to talk to Harry.  
  
"He asked you to marry him?" Harry's voice was a dismayed squeak.  
  
"No."  
  
"But you just said he did."  
  
"No, Harry, you aren't listening, are you?"  
  
"I'm having trouble getting past the part where he kissed you."  
  
I understand, she thought; that kiss had the same effect on me. Temporarily, of course. The beginnings of resentment were burning in Hermione. I'm supposed to dump Ron and then just wait for him? Wait for some mysterious point in the future when I'll toss out all rational thought and jump into bed with him, let him knock me up? Not bloody likely. Except for the dumping Ron part, maybe, she thought with a twinge of guilt. So much had changed, so quickly. "He didn't ask. He told me that I was going to marry him. End of story."  
  
She flopped down onto her stomach on the soft grass of the Quidditch field. Harry sat beside her, still in his Quidditch robes, looking flushed and sweaty after the long, brutal practice. He was harder on the team he captained than Oliver Wood ever thought of being, she thought.  
  
"What are you going to do?"  
  
"Throw myself off that damned Astronomy Tower, I think."  
  
Harry's jaw dropped with dismayed shock.  
  
"Honestly, Harry, I'm just kidding." She rolled over onto her back and laid her head companionably in his lap. "But it's not a good sign that you took me seriously, even for a moment. This is bloody awful."  
  
"So… you really talked about sex? He actually used the word fuck?" Harry's voice was a bit hoarse.  
  
"I know, it's unbelievable. Who knew Snape was human enough for it to be an issue?" She laughed. The whole incident seemed much less awful now that she was telling Harry about it.  
  
"Did… did he do anything else?"  
  
"Anything else? Like what?"  
  
"Well, you know…"  
  
"No, I don't know, Harry. Spit it out."  
  
The flush still stained Harry's face. "Did he… touch you anywhere?"  
  
"Harry, you're not about to rush off and challenge him to a duel, defend my honor, all that rubbish, are you? Because I swear, if I have to deal with one more scene like that today…"  
  
Hermione had cornered Ron, and without telling him about yesterday's encounter with Snape in the Potions classroom, told him that the evidence of her inevitable future involvement with someone else in so serious a manner, coupled with his inability to be civil to a young girl who had never done anything to harm him, made her feel that it would be best to end their romantic relationship now, before things became even more entangled. Ron had railed at length against Snape, about how unfair it was that she would at some point be willing to sleep with the sorry bastard, and she'd never let him do more than touch her breasts through her clothing. She realized now that deep inside, she had not wanted more, not from Ron. Probably not ever. Ron had threatened to go down to the dungeons and beat the hell out of the Potions master. And that was without knowing about that kiss, and everything that went along with it, she thought ruefully. Snape was right; Ron did have a tendency to whinge endlessly sometimes. Not the stuff of a long-term relationship. She hoped their friendship could be mended, but that was going to be up to Ron. She had other things to worry about at the moment.  
  
"No, Hermione, I wasn't even thinking of that," said Harry. He absently trailed his hand up and down Hermione's arm. It tingled pleasantly. She supposed her nerve endings were still raw from yesterday. Harry looks very nice right now, she thought to herself. The smell of cologne and soap and sweat and grass mixed pleasantly around him. He was looking down at her head in his lap, his hand still caressing her arm. His lips were slightly parted, and the look in his brilliant green eyes, which glittered in the light of the full moon overhead, was completely unfamiliar to Hermione. The rise and fall of Harry's chest was still rapid; strange, she thought, since Quidditch practice had ended twenty minutes earlier. The rest of the Gryffindor team was long gone. It would be curfew shortly, but Hermione didn't want to move from where she was. It felt too nice.  
  
Harry's hand moved from her arm to her neck, stroking her softly. The touch was no longer comforting; it was enflaming.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione gasped, sitting upright. "What on earth are you doing?"  
  
Harry closed his eyes briefly, shame and frustrated lust mingling in his expression. "I'm sorry, Herm. You just broke up with Ron today, I shouldn't... He'd kill me if he knew that I… And you've had all this… this Snape stuff to deal with. But you were just lying there, your head in my lap, and talking about sex…"  
  
Oh my God, thought Hermione, horrified. "I… I turned you on?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"Just from talking about sex I won't have for years?"  
  
"Well, that and the fact that you kept shaking your head when it was in my lap. It kept…"  
  
Holy shit, thought Hermione. "I was… rubbing your…" She couldn't say it.  
  
"Uh huh." That mix of embarrassment and arousal on his face was kind of cute, Hermione thought.  
  
This is definitely a personal record, thought Hermione. Three guys talking about wanting to do me in the space of three days; although with Snape, it had sounded more as if he was steeling himself for some unpleasant duty. But even so… It's amazing I'm still a virgin. I had no idea I was so hot. She laughed.  
  
Harry's expression was shuttered. "I know I shouldn't have touched you like that. I'm sorry. But you don't have to laugh about it." He stood and grabbed his Firebolt.  
  
Hermione jumped to her feet. "Wait, Harry! I didn't… I wasn't laughing at you. I promise."  
  
"Then what were you laughing about?"  
  
"The idea of me being so irresistable." She smiled self- deprecatingly.  
  
Harry grinned sheepishly, and reached out to caress her cheek. "You are irresistable. Or at least you have your moments." He laughed as she tried, laughing herself, to smack him. Her expression sobered suddenly.  
  
"Harry, what happened just now… it was just what you said, right?"  
  
Harry looked at her, not understanding the question.  
  
"You're not in love with me or anything, are you?"  
  
"No, Hermione." He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, steering her back towards the castle. "Don't worry, I'm not in love with you. Just in lust a little." He licked her ear wetly, causing her to laugh again.  
  
"Good," said Hermione sincerely. "I don't need any more 'entanglements,' as Snape calls them, right now. Especially not with you. Besides, I don't want to lose my other best friend."  
  
"Ron'll come around, Hermione. And you won't lose me. Especially not by letting me have my way with you, if you're ever so inclined. I have to admit," he said, and Hermione was certain his words were not all in jest, though he was regarding her with a mock leer, "it would make it more fun to sit through Potions, looking at Snape and knowing I nailed you first."  
  
They made it to Gryffindor Tower just before curfew. As they entered the common room, Hermione whispered into Harry's ear.  
  
"Go upstairs and have a good wank. I'd say you stand in dire need of it."  
  
"You're no fun. Unless you'd care to come and make sure I do it right?"  
  
"I think you need a more expert instructor. I'm sure Malfoy would help you if you asked nicely. Good night!" 


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JKR. No infringement intended.  
  
Rating: R for language and sexual situations.  
  
Pairing: Severus/Hermione  
  
  
  
Lightning Strikes  
  
  
  
by Auror Borealis  
  
  
  
Chapter 7  
  
  
  
Callie's fear of storms was well known in her own time, and the phobia tended to make others see her as weak and easily frightened. They would have been amazed to know that she took regular strolls, very much against school rules, in the Forbidden Forest, and felt entirely comfortable doing so.  
  
It was taken for granted that if you entered the forest, you were taking your life in your hands. Well, she often thought, Hagrid does it all the time, doesn't he? Sure, he was big, but many creatures that inhabited these woods were no respecters of size. Watching Muggle nature programs at her grandparents' house during visits, she realized that the same principles applied here. If one recognized the potential dangers and took proper precautions, it was no more dangerous than anything else. Or not much more dangerous.  
  
Callie possessed two talents that were an advantage in the Forest. She had an affinity for magical creatures, nearly as great as Hagrid's own, and applied with a great deal more common sense. She loved Hagrid dearly, but he could be blind towards his 'wee beasties' sometimes. Her talent for casting charms, and the hexes that closely resembled them, was only average, but her ability to block dark magic was almost on a par with her father's. With more training and maturity, she might even surpass him, or so Professor Lupin often said.  
  
The biggest danger to herself in the Forbidden Forest would have been her own overconfidence, had Callie been prone to any. As she was modest in her assessment of her own talents, she was cautious, and had never found herself in serious danger within these trees.  
  
The woods boasted a small stream, clear and very cold, which flowed its way over a bottom lined with smooth, rounded rocks. She had discovered this clearing when she was six years old, and it had been her private retreat ever since. Occasionally she was joined by a curious unicorn, or had a visit from her good friend Firenze, a centaur who didn't let the fact that she was human bother him. He was very open-minded, for a centaur. Usually, she had the clearing to herself.  
  
Today, it was occupied. She was stunned to find that the person sitting on her favorite boulder was the one person she least wished to find here. He sat with his legs drawn up, arms crossed over his knees, resting his head on them. His shoulders were shaking. He was crying.  
  
Callie was torn between embarrassment at stumbling upon a weeping Ron Weasley, and a desire to find out what was the matter. It was hard for her to turn away from a creature in distress, and her mother's jealous boyfriend was no exception.  
  
"Mr. Weasley?" she said tentatively. He jumped up, his wand already in his hand. He raised it towards her, and she didn't hesitate.  
  
"Accio wand!" A moment later, she was holding it in her own hand.  
  
"Callie…" his tear-streaked face went red. "I didn't know it was you. I didn't mean anything…"  
  
"I know, Mr. Weasley." She calmly handed him his wand, and sat down on the rock he had just been occupying. "But I startled you, and I didn't want to take any chances."  
  
"That was amazing," he said. "Do you duel much?"  
  
"No, not really. I can field hexes and curses well enough, but I'm not very good at sending them, so there's not much point."  
  
He looked at her, his face suddenly stern. "You shouldn't be in the Forbidden Forest."  
  
"Neither should you. And I must say, you don't look very comfortable here. I think I almost gave you a heart attack."  
  
He shivered, looking around. He still hadn't put his wand away, but gripped it tightly in his hand. "I'm lost."  
  
"Is that why you were crying?"  
  
He looked at her with loathing.  
  
"None of your bloody business. Why are you here, anyway?"  
  
"I like this spot. It's beautiful, don't you think?"  
  
"But it's in the Forbidden Forest!" He looked at her as though she was mad.  
  
"It's still beautiful. Just a bit tricky to navigate sometimes, is all. How did you get lost in here? We're not that far from the edge, you know."  
  
"I… I was walking along the edge, and saw someone I didn't particularly care to talk to, if you must know. I ducked inside the forest for just a moment, then couldn't find my way back out. I've been wandering for hours, I think."  
  
Wondering who it was he didn't want to meet, she replied, "There's a simple confundus charm on the borders away from the main path. Finite confundum, and you're out of here."  
  
"Oh." He knew that should have occurred to him, and it made him feel stupid that it didn't. Callie anticipated this reaction; she'd seen it before with older students, usually boys, many times. She had no desire to give him further cause to dislike her, no matter how irrational the reason, and set herself to soothing his ruffled ego.  
  
"I've known about it since I was very small. I can't tell you how many times I've towed lost seventh years out of here," she said with a smile. "It's one of the advantages of having spent my childhood at Hogwarts. I don't just know the forest; I probably know more secret passages in the castle than your brothers Fred and George."  
  
Ron allowed himself to be assuaged. "So you've heard about them, have you?" He gave her a slight smile.  
  
"At great length. You told me some of the funnier stories, yourself." She knew she wasn't supposed to discuss the future, but she wanted to help this boy accept the shock he'd received. Hermione had reluctantly explained the reason for his antipathy towards her, and while she couldn't wish for her mother to remain with Ron Weasley, and therefore undo her own chance to exist, she hated to see him feel so rejected. Hoping she would do no damage to the future, she went on.  
  
"You and Mrs. Weasley visit us a lot. You've got a boy here in my time, a year below me," she said. He took the bait.  
  
"Mrs. Weasley? Um… anyone I know now?"  
  
"I think so. I've seen her several times since I've been here. I had no idea she played Quidditch when she was at school." She was teasing him, and he knew it. He smiled, and the friendliness in his face was very appealing. She could see now what her mother might have seen in him at one time.  
  
"If you don't spill the beans, I'm going to dunk you in that stream. Who?"  
  
"Cho Chang."  
  
Ron's jaw dropped. "Cho? Harry's Cho?"  
  
"She dated Mr. Potter? I didn't know that," she said, looking disgruntled at having been kept in the dark about such a juicy detail.  
  
"Well, no, they haven't dated, at least not yet. Harry was madly in love with her for awhile, that's all. I think he's mostly over it, but he really hasn't dated anyone else, so I'm not sure. He'd better be over it," he said with a fierce but good-natured growl. "If I'm going to marry her, he'd better keep his hands off. So who does old Scarface end up with, anyway?"  
  
"I think I've told you enough about the future for right now," Callie replied. "How about escorting me back to the castle?"  
  
"It would be my pleasure, Miss Snape." For once, he said the name without a sneer. I think it worked, Callie thought. Ron offered her his arm. "But better yet, why don't you escort me? I quite fancy the idea of getting out of this forest, and not just wandering about without a clue."  
  
All the way back to the castle, he regaled her with some of his twin brothers' more appalling exploits. She had heard most of them before, but his older self had edited out quite a bit, so she listened eagerly. As they reached the entrance, he gave her a quick hug about the shoulders.  
  
"Thanks a lot, Callie, for everything. Hey, Cho!" he called, hurrying away. "Let me get that bag for you!" 


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JKR. No infringement intended.  
  
Rating: R for language and sexual situations.  
  
Pairing: Severus/Hermione  
  
  
  
Lightning Strikes  
  
  
  
by Auror Borealis  
  
  
  
Chapter 8  
  
  
  
Callie paced the floor of her temporary bedroom. She couldn't hear the storm, couldn't feel it, but somehow, she still knew it raged. She also knew she would not relax until it passed, and hoped fervently that it wouldn't last much longer. She barked her shin against the corner of a low table, and yelped.  
  
The door opened. Professor Snape was wearing the familiar grey robe. Now I know what to get him for Christmas, Callie thought. He's had that thing forever.  
  
"Is there a problem, Caledonia?" His cool tone held an undercurrent of concern.  
  
"I didn't mean to wake you, Daddy. I just can't sleep when I know it's storming." She saw the shocked look on his face, and hurried to correct herself. "Sorry… Professor."  
  
He turned and went back into his sitting room, and she followed. He hasn't had time to get used to this, Callie told herself, trying not to feel hurt. I haven't even been born yet, for crying out loud. She took what would be her mother's chair by the fire, and he settled into his own.  
  
"I cannot encourage you to call me anything other than Professor Snape, Caledonia. It is difficult enough to keep your situation from becoming common knowledge. But…" he looked into the fire as he spoke, "I look forward to hearing myself called "Daddy" on a regular basis. It's more than I ever hoped for."  
  
Tears glistened in Callie's eyes at this. It hurt to think of the loneliness her father endured for so long. He's far more a hero than anyone knows, she thought. She reached out, and he took her hand.  
  
"You're trembling. Are you quite well?"  
  
"Yes… Professor. I just can't relax."  
  
"I don't imagine that I encourage the use of sleeping potions in the future?"  
  
"No, sir. Every so often, but definitely not regularly."  
  
"Is there anything I can do?"  
  
Callie was struck with a notion. It was unworthy, manipulative, a testament to her Slytherin forbears. She was delighted with it.  
  
Her voice quavered. "I really want my Mum."  
  
  
  
A quick conversation ensued with Professor McGonagall through the fireplace, and Hermione was summoned out of bed and down to the dungeons. Her errand was disclosed only as 'prefect business.' The Potions classroom door opened at her knock, and the doors already stood open the rest of the way into Snape's living quarters.  
  
She stood uncertainly in the doorway, and Callie stood and ran to her, throwing her arms around her. She thought again of her father's years of isolation and suffering, and managed to bring a few tears to her eyes.  
  
"The storm… I'm so sorry for dragging you out of bed…"  
  
Hermione hugged the younger girl tightly. "I'm glad to be here, if it helps. I wish I could do more."  
  
Callie led the Gryffindor to her own chair and pushed her into it before perching on the arm. "It makes me feel a lot better when you two are here. I think I could almost go back to sleep now." You're shameless, Cal, she thought with an inward smile.  
  
"If you really can, I think you should try," said Hermione. "I won't leave until the weather calms down, I promise."  
  
"Well, if you think I should…" C'mon, Mum, twist my arm just a bit more.  
  
"Do you want me to tuck you in?"  
  
"Mum!" cried Callie indignantly. "I'm not three years old anymore!" She turned before closing the door behind her. Snape was regarding her thoughtfully. He knows what I'm doing, she thought. So long as he doesn't screw it up, that's fine. Saying goodnight, she went back to bed. She knew that she still wouldn't sleep, but it really was better, knowing they were both out there. And she could be alone, if it was all in a good cause…  
  
  
  
"Maybe a sleeping potion wouldn't hurt," ventured Hermione, nervous at suddenly being alone with Snape. It was far too intimate to be comfortable. They were both in pajamas and robes, sitting cozily by the fire in his quarters. Was this what it would be like in the future? she wondered.  
  
"If she has trouble sleeping for more than a few nights, I'll give her one, but it's too easy to become dependent on them. It's best not to use one if you have a choice about it." He spoke matter-of-factly, as though having a female student in his rooms in the dead of night was an everyday occurrence.  
  
"I find it hard to believe that you and I could produce a child with such fearful tendencies," said Snape.  
  
"She's got a phobia, all right, but she's not fearful in general. If anything, she's got a bit too much nerve sometimes." Callie provided conversational common ground, all right, but that didn't mean the topic was safe, and Hermione felt her own nervousness increasing. She'd spent a lot of time recently thinking about the encounter in the Potions classroom, and the feelings it had evoked in her. She wondered how long it would be until she could go back up to bed, but she wasn't at all sleepy now.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"She went for a walk in the Forbidden Forest today. Ron told me about it."  
  
Snape's face hardened. He was aware of Weasley's attitude towards his daughter, and although he couldn't order the boy to keep away from her, he wished heartily that he could do so. And what was the girl thinking, venturing into the forest? It made even him nervous, and he had less to fear there than most wizards.  
  
"What happened?" His tone was calm.  
  
"She goes in there quite a bit, apparently. Ron said she seemed to be very familiar with it. He said she was completely comfortable there."  
  
"Weasley took my daughter into the Forbidden Forest?" He stood, as if to march up to Gryffindor Tower and drag the boy out of bed to demand an accounting.  
  
"No, Professor," said Hermione, who found herself amused at his outrage. A smile quirked on her lips. He saw it, and scowled.  
  
"No, Professor. Severus." The scowl deepened and he looked away, but didn't protest the use of his name. "She went for a walk. Ron wandered in there and got lost, she found him and led him back out. He also said that she startled him, and he raised his wand at her."  
  
Snape started to speak, but she cut him off. "He didn't know it was her. And remember, they were in the Forbidden Forest. I usually have my wand out in there, too. He said that before he knew what happened, she'd disarmed him."  
  
"She disarmed a wizard four years her senior? While out for a stroll in the Forbidden Forest, no less." He was going to talk to her about that particular habit, but he was impressed. It was difficult to reconcile this picture of Caledonia with the shaking girl who had asked for her mother so short a time ago. But then, he had his doubts about how frightened she'd been when she made that particular request, so…  
  
He looked at Hermione, and smiled. She smiled back. It was cozy, being with her here, like this. A man could get used to it. This man could get used to this particular girl – no, woman – her companionship, her intelligence. Her loveliness. Was it so impossible, after all? And would it ever have happened without the appearance of the girl from the future? He pondered the possible paradox for a moment, then decided that, at this moment at least, he didn't give a damn.  
  
He rose and closed the few steps between them, and held out his hand to her. She took it, and then they were standing, face to face. Her breath quickened. His free hand found her other one, and they looked at each other, each face registering wonder. I could love her, he thought.  
  
"I'm sorry, Hermione."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For the way I spoke to you in the classroom that day. I was angry with you, and I wanted to hurt you, or at least frighten you. And I was jealous; I was horribly jealous. You are not mine; I hope very much that you will be one day. But until that day comes, I have no claim on you. You must conduct your affairs," he smiled wryly here, and won an answering look from her, "as you see fit. If you wish to continue with Weasley, I have no right to interfere. You can take up with Potter, for all the say I have in the matter."  
  
Hermione jumped at this, and blushed.  
  
Snape's face fell. He'd meant what he said, truly, but he hadn't expected…  
  
She looked up at him. "I'm not in love with Harry. I'm not in love with Ron, for that matter. I thought I might be, but I know now that I never was. I was attracted to him, that's all. And a few days ago…"  
  
His brow lifted inquiringly.  
  
"I was angry with you too. And I was tempted… Harry and I almost…"  
  
"Did you want to?"  
  
Hermione sighed. "What I wanted most, I think, was to do something that would hurt you. I came very close to using Harry, just to show that I didn't consider myself bound to you."  
  
"Somehow I doubt Potter would have minded."  
  
Hermione laughed. "You're right, he wouldn't have. He told me if I ever changed my mind…"  
  
Snape released her. "I would advise you never to take someone into your bed for such a reason, Hermione. It never leads to anything good. But beyond that, you must do as you wish."  
  
She took a deep, steadying breath. "Are you withdrawing your proposal, Severus?"  
  
His eyes bored into her. "Do you wish me to?"  
  
"I don't know what I want, Severus. I want to know why I feel so comfortable calling you that. A week ago, the idea of being here with you, like this, would have horrified me. It still scares me, but for a different reason. I want to know if I would ever have even considered the possibility of taking you into my bed, as you phrase it, without proof that I'll do so someday. Is this really all about Callie? Would there be anything between us if she hadn't come here?"  
  
"Are you saying you're considering taking me into your bed?"  
  
She thwacked him on the chest. "Just like a man to latch onto that one point. You're just like Harry and Ron. All you ever think about is sex."  
  
Her eyes widened. Had she just said that? To Professor Snape?  
  
"Fair enough. It's a hazard of being male. Now answer the question."  
  
"Yes, I'm considering it." She glared at him.  
  
He caught her by the waist and pulled her to him. Something hard and hot pulsed against her belly. She caught her breath, shocked, but didn't even think about pulling away.  
  
"As you have no doubt surmised, I'm also considering the matter." Still holding her close, he brought his mouth down on hers. His tongue teased her closed lips, and she parted them slightly. He pushed inside and began to explore thoroughly. She moaned softly, her own tongue beginning to move against his. She threw her arms around his neck. One of his hands slid up her side, and moved around until it cupped one breast. He groaned, and she arched into the touch. His other hand slid down to her buttock, and he pulled her even closer. It was the most exciting thing Hermione had ever felt, and she knew instinctively that none of the boys she knew could make her feel like this.  
  
To Hermione's intense disappointment, Snape pulled away, a stream of shocking obscenities flowing from those swollen, thoroughly kissed lips. He stalked to the other side of the room, yanking viciously at his crushed dressing gown, straightening it.  
  
"If you don't leave now, you may find me doing a great deal more than considering it." His voice was thick with arousal and frustration.  
  
"Severus…" She didn't recognize her own voice. It sounded hoarse, as though she'd spent hours shouting.  
  
"I was weak just now, Miss Granger. I'm trying to be stronger, for both of us. Help me – go."  
  
"No."  
  
"Are you out of your mind, girl? I nearly ravished you. Go!"  
  
"No, you didn't. You didn't do anything I didn't want you to do. And you can't make me want you like that, then just send me away when you've had enough. I won't allow it."  
  
"You're mistaken; I haven't had nearly enough. But we've had much more than was wise." He couldn't allow this to happen; not now, not tonight. Surely she must see that, he thought. How could I ever face Minerva again? She sent her down here, trusting me. I can't do this. Why doesn't she leave?  
  
Desperation made him cruel. "If you require satisfaction, I suggest you go and rouse Potter. Take him to the Astronomy Tower; I'll make sure you're not disturbed."  
  
Hermione closed the distance between them, and slapped him hard. "Harry told me he wanted to be able to look at you, and know he'd had me first. Is that really what you want? Because if it is, I'll be happy to oblige you. Give me fifteen minutes, and we'll be in that horrid tower, and it'll be his name I'm screaming."  
  
"Go, then."  
  
She paused at the door. "I hate you, Snape."  
  
"I know," he whispered when she was gone.  
  
  
  
She slipped into Harry's dorm, and roused him quickly and quietly. Sleepy and confused, he followed her out of Gryffindor and up to the Astronomy Tower. The thunder and lightning had long since ceased, and a gentle rain fell upon the roof. 


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JKR. No infringement intended.  
  
Rating: R for language and sexual situations.  
  
Pairing: Severus/Hermione  
  
  
  
Lightning Strikes  
  
  
  
by Auror Borealis  
  
  
  
Chapter 9  
  
  
  
Snape's eyes burned into Harry Potter during the next day's Potions with seventh year Gryffindor and Slytherin. Potter, for his part, stared boldly back. Hermione Granger didn't raise her eyes at all, not that Snape ever saw. Once, the professor saw Potter's hand entwine itself briefly with Hermione's. The jealousy he felt was agonizing. The little bitch moves fast, he thought. Well, you gave her permission, you idiot.  
  
At last the interminable class ended. Relieved to be free of perhaps the most tension-filled potions lesson they'd ever attended, the students quietly gathered their things and filed out. The Slytherins were as subdued as the Gryffindors. Snape ignored them as they left, longing to escape to his quarters and berate himself in peace. He'd already sent Callie to spend the morning with Hagrid; his self-scourging would not have an audience.  
  
"Professor."  
  
So Potter hadn't left with the rest of them. Snape looked up. The bruised look under the boy's eyes advertised his lack of sleep. Snape snorted. As if I didn't already know, he thought.  
  
Harry drew his wand. So, thought Snape, too bitter to be properly amused, he's come to fight me for the girl.  
  
Harry pointed his wand at the door, which closed and locked. Another wave and a muttered incantation, and a silencing charm was cast. No one would be able to eavesdrop on their conversation. He put his wand back in its pocket.  
  
I could be wrong, thought Snape. Unless he means to use his fists.  
  
"I didn't get much sleep last night, Professor Snape."  
  
"I can see that, Potter. You look like hell. Not that you're ever exactly prepossessing."  
  
"Look who's talking."  
  
"Are you here to lose as many points from Gryffindor as possible, Potter? You've made an admirable start."  
  
"I don't give a flobberworm's ass about house points. We win every year. So what if we this year is the exception? I'm a lot more concerned about my friend than about that damned house cup."  
  
"A longing for detention, then? I'd think you would have had your fill by now."  
  
"Just so long as you listen to me. Ask me what I did last night instead of sleep."  
  
Snape's jaw clenched so hard he thought it would break. He said nothing.  
  
"All right, so you're not curious. I'll tell you anyway."  
  
Shut up, boy. Don't say it. You may not survive your recitation.  
  
"I was in the Astronomy Tower with Hermione."  
  
"Damn you, Potter, get out of here NOW!" Harry flinched at the rage in Snape's face, but refused to move.  
  
"Not yet. Last night, Hermione woke me up and asked me to go to the Astronomy Tower with her."  
  
"Do you have a death wish, Potter?"  
  
Harry ignored this. "I know she told you about what almost happened between us, at the Quidditch field. Is that why you told her to take me up there and fuck me?"  
  
"Is that what you did?" Snape's voice was low, almost inaudible.  
  
"Hell, no. If I did, would I be here telling you about it?"  
  
The constriction in Snape's chest eased. Potter, you just may live through this after all, he thought.  
  
"Did she ask you to?" He had to know. He wasn't sure he could bear the answer, but he had to know.  
  
Harry stared at him a moment, loathing mixing with something close to pity.  
  
"No. She told me what happened between you, but she didn't proposition me. She never had any intention of doing so. After last night, I can't believe you would think that she would."  
  
"Then why the Astronomy Tower? If she just wanted to talk to you, wouldn't your common room have done as well?"  
  
"Gods, Snape, she was hysterical. I barely got her out of Gryffindor before she started wailing. I can't believe we made it to the Astronomy Tower without half the school after us, demanding to know what I was doing to her."  
  
Snape smiled with no humor whatsoever. "I told her you would not be disturbed. I simply kept my word."  
  
"Good gods, you are a masochist, aren't you, Professor?"  
  
  
  
Hermione alternately paced the circular space, and threw herself into Harry's arms, sobbing into his chest.  
  
"I can't – BELIEVE – he could be so dreadful. How dare he? How dare he tell me to – to –"  
  
Harry was losing his patience. Hermione had wept for a good half hour now, and was no closer to telling him what Snape had done than when she'd dragged him out of bed. This was Snape, he wanted to remind her. Dreadful was his specialty. "Tell you to what?"  
  
"Gods, Harry, he was being such a – such a –" She blew noisily into her handkerchief.  
  
"Hermione, Snape's been saying awful things to us for seven years now. Remember what he said when you got hexed and your front teeth grew down to your collar? What could he say that was any worse than that?"  
  
Hermione sobbed harder. "He told me to come up here and have sex with you," she wailed.  
  
"Snape told you to – "  
  
She nodded. "That beast! He's the lowest, most horrid – "  
  
"Why would he tell you something like that?"  
  
"Because he knows about what happened on the Quidditch field," she cried.  
  
Harry blinked. "Hermione, are you telling me that you've got me embroiled in a love triangle with you and Snape? Oh, god, Ron too. A love quadrangle." He covered his face with his hands. His shoulders began to shake.  
  
"Harry, I'm sorry…"  
  
He removed his glasses to wipe his streaming eyes. "Oh, Hermione…" He could hardly speak for laughing.  
  
"Harry, you're supposed to be comforting me, not laughing at me!"  
  
He sobered, but it was with an effort. "Hermione, I'm at a loss to understand why this bothers you. You can't stand Snape."  
  
"That was b-b-before." She blew her nose again.  
  
"Before what?"  
  
"Before he kissed me."  
  
"But he's already kissed you," yelled Harry, thoroughly exasperated.  
  
"Yes, but I didn't want him to then!"  
  
"So tonight you wanted him to kiss you, and he did?"  
  
She nodded. She was crying too hard to speak.  
  
Harry had a very difficult time imagining anyone actually wanting to be kissed by Snape, but then, Hermione also liked History of Magic. Some things defied explanation.  
  
"Okay, he kissed you, and you wanted him to. Then what happened?"  
  
"He stopped. And then when I told him I didn't want him to stop, he said I should sh-sh-shag you, if I wanted it so badly. Or something like that. That horrid, awful –"  
  
"Um… maybe he can't, Hermione. He could be impotent."  
  
"He's not."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
She lowered the handkerchief for a moment, and looked at him. "I know."  
  
"Okay… I won't ask precisely how. But there could be a perfectly reasonable explanation for why he'd snog you senseless, and then make you leave." Put like that, Harry couldn't see what it could be, but he was willing to give Snape the benefit of the doubt, if it helped to calm his distraught friend.  
  
  
  
  
  
"So basically, you implied that she was some sort of cheap slut. Do you see why she's a bit unhappy with you now?"  
  
Snape was torn, badly torn, between telling Potter to mind his own bloody business, and wanting to defend himself. He did not defend his actions to students, and particularly not to Potter.  
  
"Did she give you any sort of hint, Potter, as to how I could make this up to her?" There, he'd done it. Was it as painful as you thought it would be? he asked himself. He'd just asked Harry Potter for advice. On his love life. No, not painful; bloody excruciating.  
  
"She just wants to know why, that's all."  
  
Oh, well, if that's all; let's see, Hermione, you're a student and I'm a teacher, he thought. I have to look Minerva McGonagall in the face several times daily; let's not even mention Albus Dumbledore. A week ago, we loathed each other. You're Harry Potter's best friend. You just broke up with Harry Potter's other best friend. You've invaded my mind and my heart and I want them back. I lied to you last night; had you slept with Potter, I would have killed him, then you, and then myself. All right, maybe not. But I would have wanted to. I'd give you my soul, Hermione, but I forfeited it long ago. You could never love such as me.  
  
Instead of answering, he asked some questions of his own.  
  
"Tell me something, Potter. You wanted her on the Quidditch field, did you not?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then why not last night?"  
  
"I told you. She didn't ask me."  
  
"Come now, with all the much-vaunted Potter charm, you don't believe you could have talked her into it? What was it you wanted? Ah, yes, I remember. To be able to look at me, and know that you'd had her first."  
  
Harry said nothing.  
  
"So why the restraint? Chivalry, perhaps?"  
  
"Apart from the fact that she's my best friend, and that I would not take advantage of the fact that she needed comfort? Thanks to you, I might add," said Harry brutally. "When she broke up with Ron, they were the only ones who were surprised. Their relationship was habit and expectation. It sure wasn't love. Look at Ron; he's already going after Cho Chang. So I didn't have any qualms about going for it. There wasn't anyone else, after all. No one that I knew of. Why shouldn't I be her first, if she wanted me? I'm not dating anyone, she's not dating anyone. Jacking off lost its charm long ago. What's a boff between friends?"  
  
Each word cut into Snape like tiny, jagged shards of glass. Harry was watching him closely, and was prepared enough to jump back when Snape's hand lashed out to grab his throat.  
  
"You… will… not – NOT – speak of her as though she's a convenient receptacle for your baser urges." Harry was certain that at that moment, Snape could easily have performed Avada Kedavra without a wand, and been more successful than Voldemort had been with one. He was surprised his scar didn't hurt; the hatred radiating from Snape was tangible.  
  
"You've never liked Hermione. What do you care?" Harry knew he was pushing his luck, but really, Snape was hopeless. He still couldn't applaud Hermione's choice, but if this was what she really wanted, he'd do his best to make sure she got it.  
  
"I love her, you smug little bastard! If I ever hear you speak of her like this again, I will forget that Dumbledore thinks you might somehow be of use against Voldemort, and kill you myself."  
  
Harry smiled as though he hadn't just received a very earnest death threat.  
  
"I hate to say this, but I think she loves you, too. You still want to know how to make up for hurting her? Tell her how you feel. I have a feeling it might make up for a lot."  
  
Harry picked up his bag, but could not leave without firing a parting shot. "If you ever need more advice on your love life from a seventeen year old who's not getting any, I'll be around." 


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JKR. No infringement intended.  
  
Rating: R for language and sexual situations.  
  
Pairing: Severus/Hermione  
  
   
  
Lightning Strikes  
  
   
  
by Auror Borealis  
  
   
  
   
  
Chapter 10  
  
   
  
Callie watched out of the window of the Headmaster's office as Ron walked through the grounds with Cho. They walked close together, not hand in hand, but obviously deep in earnest discussion. Harry approached them, dressed for Quidditch practice and carrying his broom. Even from here, she could see the pleased smile on Harry's face, the uncertainty on Ron's. Ron smiled as Harry gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder and went on his way. Callie breathed a sigh of relief; she hadn't caused any trouble between the two friends with her interference, thank goodness. If only things had gone so well with her parents…  
  
"I do not believe in paradoxes, Miss Snape," said Dumbledore, and she turned back to face him. "If you are here, such influence as you have in this time will only affect the future as it is meant to be affected. I know that Professor McGonagall disagrees with me on this, and has told you as much."  
  
"But they hate each other, Professor. They would never have thought of each other – that way – without me to make them think of it. And now my mum's so sad, and my father is just so – so grouchy. I've just messed things up."  
  
"It was, I'll admit, a bit – Slytherin – of you to arrange for them to be alone in such potentially romantic circumstances." He smiled. "But once you got them there, the rest was up to them. It is not your fault that things became somewhat messy."  
  
"Messy? He completely botched it." Callie was amazed that she could feel so comfortable discussing this with the Headmaster, but she knew him well enough to know that it was because he wanted her to feel comfortable. She didn't know how he accomplished it, but it probably wasn't any great trick for the man who was almost universally acknowledged as the greatest living wizard in the world.  
  
"I handed him my mother, all to himself, on a stormy night by a cozy fireside. All he had to do was be nice to her, and he couldn't manage that. He loves her in my time; he'd never treat her like that. And his moodiness doesn't upset her then, either." Callie had asked for, and received, the story from Harry – carefully edited for his listener's youth and emotional involvement. "I don't want them to split up before even get started."  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "I cannot encourage an involvement between a professor and a student, of course. But I also cannot allow hostility to fester between them. While I believe that people should in general be allowed to solve their own problems, there have been times I should have interfered, and did not. When one lives as long as I do, one acquires many regrets; I do not wish to add to them if it can be helped." Callie was curious about his last statement, but did not ask him to explain it. He opened a drawer in his desk, and withdrew an object that looked a bit like a Remembrall, but was filled with what looked like tiny dials and gauges. Some of them were still, and some were spinning slowly. He handed it to her.  
  
"Take this to Professor Snape, child. He'll know what it is, and what to do with it."  
  
   
  
   
  
Snape regarded the Extemporis with misgiving. He had never used one before, had indeed never seen one before, except in books. There was only one possible use that Dumbledore could have envisioned when he sent it, but Severus wasn't sure it could make all that much difference. Technically the user (or users, he thought) stepped outside of time. Temporal relationships, such as that of teacher to student, for instance, ceased to have meaning. But one couldn't stay in the cocoon of the Extemporis forever, and the moment one re-entered the time stream, it was to find nothing changed. Whatever understanding they had come to, if any, he and Hermione would dance on the horns of the same dilemma when they returned. Assuming, of course, that he could convince her to go with him in the first place. He smiled slightly at the thought of inviting her on this particular date – or more to the point, the lack of date.  
  
He wasn't sure at what point in his ruminations he decided he'd try. One moment, he was reflecting on the pointlessness of it all, and the next, he was striding to the kitchens to order provisions enough to last two people for a couple of days, to be delivered to his rooms. He did not assume they would stay that long; he only wanted to make sure that if they did, they would not be driven out by their stomachs. Now to see if the girl was willing. He did not summon her to the dungeons. Instinctively he knew that doing so would make her more difficult to convince. Instead, damning the gossips in advance, he took the unfamiliar path to Gryffindor Tower.  
  
The Fat Lady looked at him dubiously as he stood in front of her.  
  
"Good afternoon," he said.  
  
"Good afternoon, Professor. Is there anything I can help you with?"  
  
"I've come to see Hermione Granger. Is she here?"  
  
The Fat Lady considered for a moment. "I'm not certain." This was a lie, of course. She knew at any given moment who was in Gryffindor, and who was not. "I'll have to ask." She left the frame, and several long minutes later, Nearly Headless Nick drifted out of the wall.  
  
"Are you on school business, Professor?"  
  
"No, Sir Nicholas. My errand is personal."  
  
The ghost nodded. "In that case, Miss Granger does not wish to see you."  
  
Snape was not easily balked. "Could you tell her that I said 'please?'" Nick was nonplussed. He drifted back through the stone wall. When he reappeared, he did not clear the stone completely. He looked apprehensive.  
  
"She wants you to say 'pretty please.'"  
  
Snape scowled so fiercely that Nearly Headless Nick retreated almost all of the way back into the wall. Did she want him to kneel and kiss her feet, too? And would he do it, he wondered.  
  
"Oh, very well. Pretty please."  
  
The Gryffindor ghost vanished instantly. A few moments later, the portrait swung open, and Hermione emerged.  
  
"Did you enjoy that, Miss Granger?"  
  
She looked up at him defiantly. "Oh, yes. Very, very much."  
  
This was not going to be easy, he mused. They walked away from Gryffindor, and he told her about the Extemporis. Unsurprisingly, she already knew all about them. What did surprise him was her ready acquiescence to his suggestion.  
  
"When do we go?" she asked.  
  
"I see no reason to wait, if you are ready. We'll be back as soon as we left, after all."  
  
He led her down to the dungeons and into his rooms. A large basket was on the table; the House Elves were certainly efficient, he thought, but then again, that was why they were there. He took the Extemporis out of his cloak and held it in his left hand while he used his wand to bathe the small suite of rooms in soft blue light, marking out the area that would be affected by the Extemporis. He held up the little glass ball and pointed his wand at it, and the blue light disappeared. All the dials on the device went still.  
  
Nothing appeared to be any different, but of course the Extemporis had worked as it should. They were now outside of time.  
  
   
  
   
  
They sat once again in the chairs before the fireplace. He pointed his wand, and a fire sprang to life in the grate. None of them spoke for the space of what seemed at least an hour.  
  
Hermione broke the silence.  
  
"Why did you send me away?"  
  
"Whatever may happen in the future, Hermione, you are a student, and I am your teacher. It would be unethical for me to become involved with you. No matter how much I want to."  
  
"And you do want to?"  
  
"I should have thought that was clear enough."  
  
"No, not even close. You kissed me like – like that – and then you told me to get out. You told me to go do Harry, for god's sake. I don't know why I didn't. He's awfully cute."  
  
The flare of jealousy didn't last long. He knew she was baiting him.  
  
"You know why I had to make you go, Hermione. I regret having been unkind in doing so."  
  
To his surprise, her hand came to rest on his. "I know. At least I know that now. I just thought you were being your usual evil self." He looked over to see a mischievous smile on her lips. He took her hand in his, gripping it tightly.  
  
"I'm not your student right now," she said.  
  
"Only because there is, technically, no 'right now.' The distinction is so slight, it hardly matters that it exists."  
  
"It exists, all right." Hermione picked up the Extemporis and secreted it inside her robes.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Making sure you appreciate the distinction you claim not to be able to see. We're not leaving here until you finish what you started. Or do you want me to think you're a tease?"  
  
Gryffindors were known for their boldness, but this was breathtaking.  
  
"Give me that, Hermione."  
  
"Do you want it?" She stood and danced away from him, smiling seductively. "Come and get it." 


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JKR. No infringement intended.  
  
Rating: R for language and sexual situations.  
  
Pairing: Severus/Hermione  
  
   
  
Lightning Strikes  
  
   
  
by Auror Borealis  
  
  
  
1 Chapter 11  
  
  
  
Snape did not move. "You do not understand what you are playing at, Miss Granger."  
  
"You don't think so? I understand the teacher/student thing. Believe me, Severus, I get it. You want me, I want you, and we can't touch each other. What's not to get?" She circled around him, the smile still there, but tinged with bitterness and frustration. "I want to jump you in the worst way, but it's against the rules in every way anyone can think of."  
  
"Jump me?" He arched a brow.  
  
"Don't pretend you don't know what I mean. I'm in lust with you. I think I might be in love with you. If I thought it wasn't mutual, Severus, I'd just deal with it, I swear. But knowing that you want me too makes it a lot harder."  
  
She plucked the Extemporis out of her robes, and held it up.  
  
"When we undo this, everything will be just like it was before. But right now, we are not breaking any rules. So what if it feels like we are? Technically we're not, and I'll tell you, right now that's good enough for me. When we get out of here, you're right; we'll have to leave each other alone. I see that. So we need to say anything that could possibly need saying for the rest of the term right now."  
  
Hermione placed the Extemporis in Snape's hands.  
  
"If you really don't have anything to say to me that can't be said in the context of our teacher/student relationship, then get us back into time. Otherwise, Severus, work with me here. I can't do this by myself."  
  
He placed the ball carefully on the table and stood, holding out his hand. Hermione took it with relief, and he drew her into his arms. They embraced tightly, each understanding that this would be an oasis, followed by a long trek through the desert of the rest of the school year.  
  
"It will only make things harder, Hermione," he murmured into her hair.  
  
"Not as hard as it would be knowing we could have had this and didn't take it."  
  
"Have it your own way, then," he said, humor lighting the black depths of his eyes. He lifted her chin so she faced him, and lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was full of passion, but unhurried. They would have as long as they needed, if not as long as they wanted. Her arms encircled his neck, her hands tightening in his hair. One of his hands moved to caress her back, moving lightly up and down her spine. The other wrapped tightly about her waist and pulled her to him, as he had done once before. Again, the evidence of his desire for her was obvious, and it made her knees feel wobbly. Warmth blossomed low in her abdomen, and she moaned into his mouth. He smiled as well as he could when his lips were otherwise occupied. Instinctively, Hermione lifted one foot and rubbed it up and down his leg before wrapping it around his ankle.  
  
He laughed, a contented, mirthful sound, and drew back from her.  
  
"Slow down, love." Hermione searched his face for signs of mockery at that endearment, but found sincerity. Moving slowly, with exquisite tenderness, Snape trailed kisses along her jaw, then moving down her smooth, soft throat. "You wanted to talk, did you not?"  
  
"Uh huh…" She threw her head back to give him better access to her neck. She moaned softly, and the sound made Snape's breathing quicken still further. Her responsiveness to his touch fueled his arousal to feverish heights. With a heroic effort, he pulled away, and guided her to one of the chairs. Ignoring her protests, he pushed her down into it.  
  
"Caledonia will not be conceived for at least three years, Hermione. There is no reason to rush into this."  
  
"You're making a habit of this," she said raggedly, "and it's starting to tick me off just a bit."  
  
He raised a brow questioningly.  
  
"Getting me all hot and wanting you, and then pushing me away. Have I misread you so badly? God knows you're not the easiest person to figure out, Professor. Have you just been trying to see if you could make yourself do it with me, and finding out that you can't?"  
  
Gods, how could she think that? he wondered. His groin ached unbearably. Not want her?  
  
"I assure you, Miss Granger, that wanting you is not a problem." He took her hand and pressed it to his erection. Her gasp was very satisfying, almost as satisfying as the feel of her fingers on his hard length. Reluctantly, he stepped away and sat in the other chair.  
  
"But as I was saying, our daughter will not be conceived for several years. The sensible thing to do would be to wait, at least until you have graduated from Hogwarts." Tears of disappointment appeared in her eyes, and he shook his head. "I am not saying that I will deny you my bed, if you truly wish it. I need to be certain that you are ready for this. I don't want you to be sorry later."  
  
In answer, she rose and moved to stand in front of him. She took his hand and, imitating his own gesture, placed it firmly between her legs. Even through the layers of fabric, the moist heat was evident. She groaned, and pushed against his hand.  
  
"I don't think I can be much more ready, Severus. As for being sorry later, I'm prepared to deal with it if it happens, but I don't think that it will. We know we will be together in the future. That's far more of a guarantee than most people have. And besides, I love you."  
  
She unfastened her robes and threw them heedlessly into a heap on the floor, then began to unbutton her shirt. He sat back and watched with flattering intensity. Bit by bit, she discarded her clothing until she was in her bra and panties.  
  
"Your turn," she whispered.  
  
He didn't move, and she felt her annoyance rising once more, until he spoke.  
  
"Hermione…" His voice held a quality she had never heard before – fear.  
  
She knelt down in front of him, placing her hands on the arms of his chair.  
  
"What's wrong, Severus?" Surely he'd done this before, she thought. Please, let me be the only virgin here.  
  
"I am such an ugly creature…"  
  
She moved to sit in his lap, and put her arms around him. "You're beautiful to me, Severus."  
  
"I love you, Hermione," he said thickly. He held her tightly, then reached one hand up to assist her in unclothing him.  
  
  
  
A long time later, he lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, regarding her sleeping form with amazement. After all he had done in his life, cutting himself off from his own humanity one despicable, loathsome act at a time, it was incredible that he should be the recipient of such a precious gift. Careful not to disturb her, he turned onto his other side and pressed his face into the pillow. His sobs were completely silent, the shaking of his shoulders almost imperceptible. Still, he was not surprised when her arms came around him. Slowly, tenderly, she loved him, banishing for a while the ghosts that hovered around him.  
  
  
  
Severus touched his wand to the Extemporis, and stepped away from Hermione.  
  
She smiled sadly, but made no move to touch him. You asked for this, she reminded herself, now deal with it.  
  
"I'll see you in Potions tomorrow, Professor." She walked out of his rooms without looking back. 


End file.
